Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 15

Oddly enough, Justin awakened first; his sleep disturbed by a dream he couldn't remember. He glanced at the naked, sleeping Brian and thought about how beautiful he was despite his damaged self-image. It occurred to him that most of Brian's wounds were internal, some even self-inflicted. That the damage that had been done to his lover left scars too deep to ever heal. Even through his love and support. So he studied Brian, noticing the few new lines that he thought added character and realizing that Brian had gained a few pounds. His lean six foot three frame carried the few extra pounds well though he knew Brian would disagree vehemently. He prided himself on his body, on being the hottest man around.

Brian stirred as if he'd become aware of the attention. "Hey," he said, voice coarsened by sleep. "What time is it?"

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he said, "We have an hour. We didn't sleep very long."

Brian looked at him, saw his own weariness mirrored in Justin's eyes. "You could sleep at Daphne's tonight. I know you need your sleep."

Justin looked at him. "As do you. I'm not the one who gets cranky."

"Excuse me?" Brian laughed. "You are too the one who gets cranky. I, at least, have had years of surviving on three or less hours of sleep. All those nights I spent fucking until dawn were great practice."

"And what about those nights that you spend brooding on the sofa, looking out at the night?" Justin pointed out.

"How many of those nights did you join me, curling up against my side?" he said.

Justin acknowledged that. "'Tis true, I suppose. We both have had our sleeping regimens disturbed."

Brian nodded. "Justin, I-," he began, and then cut himself off.

"What Brian?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." Just your image blurring, as if it's an out of focus photo. That disturbed him. Justin had always been so clear to him. "I'm going to put on some clothes," he said, stalking naked to the bathroom to piss.

Justin was relieved to notice that Brian didn't shut the door behind him as he'd done for the few days after the surgery when he didn't want Justin to see him. Staring at Brian for a few moments, he stood and walked down the stairs, his steps leaden. He was acutely aware of what Brian's unveiling had done; for him and for his lover. Things were changing between them, he knew. Events beyond their control were testing the durability of their relationship even as Brian continued to build new roadblocks.

Meanwhile, at an office downtown…

Miranda Jameson, Ph.D. sat behind her desk. She was a beautiful woman of thirty-three. She possessed earthy good looks and had once been likened to Drea de Matteo, the actress who portrayed the late Adriana on The Sopranos. Miranda considered that a compliment.

She straightened her desk, then rose to pull Brian's chart from her filing cabinet. When she'd first taken him on as a patient, she'd worried about professional ethics. After all, she'd slept with him once. Eons ago. Still it was a prior relationship and a sexual one, at that. Although it had been a long time ago, she'd wondered about her ability to be impartial.

It was true that Miranda knew things about Brian that a normal clinician wouldn't. Brian, however, had made it easy for her. He was charming and almost clinical in his detachment. It struck her as somewhat sad that he was able to cloak his emotions so well. However, considering the climate of the Kinney household, she supposed it was simply a matter of survival. A method of employing self-preservation for a sensitive child who realized at a young age that he preferred men to girls. In the environment Brian grew up in, the guise of Catholicism cloaked a hypocrisy that was startling. A mother who found solace in a bottle of sherry or a vodka gimlet; a father who used his son as a punching bag on occasion. It was no wonder that Brian built a fortress about himself; a fortress that she'd once found analogous to that of Jericho. Loving someone left you open to pain in Brian's view. He'd never really seen the good aspects of healthy love that weren't accompanied with harsh words and violence.

As for Justin, his young lover, she considered, Brian was deeply conflicted about his feelings. Torn between deep feelings and the acute fear of being hurt again; of being left again. Again, not surprising given Brian's upbringing. Living with an alcoholic mother and an abusive father was difficult for any child, much less a son who was reminded daily that his father had wanted him aborted. Because, as Brian put it, his father had not wanted "another fucking kid". That his very existence was an accident; that his mother had given birth because she felt it her Catholic duty because abortion was a sin in her mind. Miranda found that interesting considering she hadn't said a word when Jack went after Brian. Abortion and homosexuality was different, abhorrent in Joan Kinney's opinion; yet child abuse was accepted as a private family matter. So no, Miranda had little sympathy for the other members of the Kinney family, including Claire. Miranda hadn't attended Jack Kinney's funeral because she found it ludicrous to mourn a man who had so damaged his son and was a tyrannical asshole.

On a personal level, she knew how susceptible Brian was to dark moods, deep black depressions, and suicidal thoughts. That Brian was not violent was a miracle in itself, she thought. Instead he channeled his frustration into a ruthless ambition in business and into sex. Aside from the physical ramifications of Brian's lifestyle, she was concerned professionally about the impact on his psyche. Despite his façade of carelessly constructed sex appeal, he was still insecure on almost every level. Except one, she admitted. Brian's approach to sex was systematic and, to a certain degree, predatory. Regardless of the fact that Justin had pursued him, Brian was seen as the sexual predator. With Justin it was different. When her patient spoke of Justin, he seemed lighter. Somehow freer.

Glancing at the Tiffany clock, Miranda sighed. Rising, she walked to her office door, opening it so that she could see her assistant at the front desk. "Isabella."

"Yes, Miranda."

Smiling, she said, "You can go home. Mr. Kinney is my last patient of the day." That was deliberate; sessions with Brian tended to be intense for patient and therapist.

"Are you sure?"

Realizing what her assistant was too polite to ask, she said, "You'll be paid for the full day, Isabella."

"Thank you, Miranda."

Nodding, Miranda returned to her office as Isabella closed down for the afternoon, putting the phone on the night system, so that it wouldn't disturb her session. Sitting down behind her desk once more, Miranda waited for Brian and Justin's arrival. She indulged in her own form of brooding, removing a cigarette from the lacquered box on her desk.

Back at the loft…

Justin waited as Brian emerged from the bathroom. He'd put back on his white t-shirt and jeans. Glancing at his silent lover, Justin could see the dark circles under his eyes clearer, evidence he hadn't been sleeping much.

"You ready to go?" Brian said, avoiding Justin's eyes.

Justin nodded, albeit reluctantly. He was resigned to the thought of another shrink's office. This time, he thought, I won't be giving an "I like dick" speech. "So is she like Melfi?"

Smiling, Brian said, "You watch too much TV, Sunshine. No, she kind of looks like Adriana though. Miranda would be right at home in Jersey. Trust me, you'll like her."

"Do I need to bring anything?"

"Not really. Unless you want to bring your sketchpad. Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you're doing this?"

"Uh uh," he sighed. "So you've known her since you were kids?"

"Yep. Since we were five," Brian responded as they walked out the door. "She and I went to Saint Ignatius together up until the time I transferred."

"So she graduated from a Catholic high school?" Justin picked up the thread of the conversation once they were in the Corvette.

"Uh huh," he said, weaving into traffic. "Miranda was beautiful in high school and was self-possessed enough to know it. She worked it to her advantage, Justin. Getting straight, horny teenage boys to cream their shorts thinking about her. Inspired a lot of wet dreams."

Intrigued by the notion of someone as innately sexual as Brian, he said, "So did she do more than tease?"

"She wasn't a cock-tease, Sunshine. She had more self-respect than that. But she lost her virginity at fifteen in the back of a Trans Am." He hesitated before saying, "It wasn't to me. It was to some asshole football jock that had a tiny dick and couldn't last longer than a minute. The proverbial one-minute man."

Justin knew all about asshole football players. "You sound protective."

"I am. I beat the shit out of a kid on the playground for throwing sand in her eyes. And when the guys started saying shit about me liking dick in high school, it was Miranda who came to my defense." He remembered the times Miranda had stood up for him as much as he remembered the times he'd stood up for her. And it hadn't been hiding behind a girl. "She served as my beard at a few church functions. By the time I was eighteen, I knew that I preferred cock to pussy. And you know the stories about me fucking everything that moves." Even women.

Justin did. He'd only heard it a couple million times. "What about Michael?"

"Um, Michael." Again a slight hesitation before he continued, "Let's face it Michael's a light-weight. He'd get the shit beat out of him and I'd have to jump in. Michael couldn't stand up for me if my life depended on it." And sometimes it had, he thought. Remembering the times he'd taken the blows for Michael when they'd gone down a wrong alley after leaving some after-hours sex club and ended up facing some drunk as shit breeder who didn't like fags.

"So she was your Daphne?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. She's seen me through a lot of shit."

"So why wasn't she at your dad's funeral or his wake?"

Brian glanced at him. "Because she hated Jack as much as I did. She was there the nights that I was bruised and bloody, nursing a split lip because I didn't eat my peas or take the fucking garbage out. She was there for me in the days when I didn't have Michael or Debbie."

"You love her," Justin said quietly.

"She's my oldest friend," he said simply. But he knew what Justin was saying. "If I was straight, I'd have probably ended up with her. But instead we're best friends and she's like the female version of me. She's as cock-hungry as I am."

"I thought you said she experimented with Lindsay."

"I did," Brian answered. "It was a botched experiment though they both got off. Lindsay liked the experience more than Miranda."

"Were you there?"

"Uh yeah. It was my very fucked-up idea. And I was stoned off my mind on some good shit I'd scored. But I fucked the shit out of some football player that night, reminding him just why he was a wide receiver."

Justin laughed. "Okay, I get the point. Miranda's been a good friend to you. And a good therapist because she knows you on levels I don't. Like Michael doesn't."

Brian pulled into the parking lot and parked, asking, "Are you threatened by Michael?"

"No."

Brian's eyes narrowed. "You have me. I'm not going anywhere," he pointed out. "And I love Mikey." When Justin began to protest, he added, "As a friend. It's not the same way I feel about you." Too late he realized what he'd all but admitted. Fuck me, he thought.

"Are you saying you love me?"

Sighing, Brian looked at his partner. "No. I'm saying I don't know exactly what I feel. Just that my feelings for you are different from what I feel for Mikey. Or what I feel for Lindsay. Okay?" Christ on a stick, he thought. Is he going to let this drop? He wondered.

So it wasn't an admission, Justin thought, feeling somewhat dejected. Still he nodded; understanding now was not the time to push. He looked at Brian. "Let's do this thing," Brian said.

Entering the converted Colonial, Justin noted that the office was not overwhelmingly female. There were female touches but it was muted, understated. The office was rather avant-garde. He could understand why Brian and Miranda were good friends. They were a lot alike, Justin thought.

Hearing the front door open, Miranda slid her feet back into her stiletto heels and walked out to greet Brian and his lover. Seeing Brian first, she noticed how tired and drawn he looked. Oh, God, she thought, he hasn't been sleeping. That wasn't a total surprise; after all, he suffered from insomnia. Her eyes going to Justin, she knew at once why her friend was drawn to the young man seated next to him. Brian, he's exactly your type, she thought.

"Brian," she said, voice soft.

"Hey, Doc."

"Cut that out. You know that I'm the last person in the world you need to be formal with, Brian." I've seen your dick on more than one occasion, she thought. Turning to the young man, she said, "Justin, I'm going to spend some time with Brian. Then, I'd like to talk to you. And then I'll see you two together."

Justin nodded. So far, he liked Miranda. She was straightforward and had a no-bullshit attitude. Brian's description of her was appropriate.

Following Miranda back into her office, Brian closed the door behind him. Sitting in a chair that was innately masculine, he closed his eyes for a moment. "You okay, Brian?"

"Not really," he admitted. "It's been a trying few days."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"I guess I have to."

She nodded. "You know the way this works. You talk, I listen. Then I tell you what I think. And you wind up doing whatever you want to do."

He opened his eyes. "You sound pissed, Doc." Patting his pocket, he removed the pack of the cigarettes. "Mind if I smoke?"

"No," she said, opening the window a slight bit. One of the benefits of not sharing an office was having the ability to set your own rules. It was why she liked being a sole practitioner. "Brian, I'm worried about you."

"So is he." Brian's words were quiet.

She looked at him. "Have you told him everything?"

"He knows about the cancer. He knows about my dad and the cat. He knows about Sabrina. He doesn't know about the time I got busted at that sex club or the fact that I walked out half-naked with some guy's come on my lips. He doesn't know that I hustled more than once to pay the bills so I wouldn't have to scramble for cash. He knows a lot but he doesn't know everything."

"Slow down. Let's back up. Last time we spoke, you'd kicked him out. What did you end up doing the night you kicked him out?"

Brian sighed. "I got high. I snorted a few lines and smoked a couple of joints."

"Did it hurt you kicking him out?"

"Yeah, it fucking hurt. It hurt when I told him that he wasn't my partner."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because it wasn't any of his business. This was something I was going to handle on my own. I wasn't going to burden him with any of this."

"Even though it was you who helped him after he got bashed?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Do you doubt his feelings for you?"

Thinking of how he'd undressed in front of Justin and his lover's reaction, Brian shook his head. "No, he loves me."

"Is he just with you because of sex? Is it purely a physical relationship?"

"No. It's not just fucking. The times we "fuck" are outweighed by the times we make love," Brian admitted, knowing it was costing him something.

"So you admit that when you have sex with him it's not just a way for you to get off?"

"Miranda, for Christ's sake. I take the time to make sure he gets off. I go down on him as often as he does on me. I'm gentle and passionate. And I'm rough only when he's willing and he's agreeable."

She glanced up from her notes. "When did having sex with Justin begin to change?"

Brian sighed, taking a deep breath. "Truthfully, after he got hurt. I wanted to take it slow because I knew that was what he needed."

Shifting topics, she looked at him, recognizing how very uncomfortable he was with self-examination. "Brian, what else did you do after you kicked him out?"

"I stood in a hot shower until I pruned. I felt horrible. And it wasn't just the radiation but the fact that my assault on Justin came out of left field. At least for him."

"Why were you so angry?"

"We've been over this," Brian said, irritated. But he answered. "Because he didn't come to me. He didn't talk to me when he found out. He didn't come into the bathroom and say, 'Brian, what's going on?' Instead he went to Mikey."

Ah yes, Miranda thought. Michael Novotny, Brian's fair-weather best friend. "Does it bother you that he went to Michael?"

Brian glared at her. "Yes, it fucking bothers me. Michael's never given him good advice. Every time Justin's talked to Michael about us it's left us worse off than we were. He should have come to me."

"Why should he have come to you?"

"Because I'm his partner."

"And that matters to you?"

"Miranda, yeah. It matters to me. I changed my fucking will. I had papers drawn up giving him partial ownership of Kinnetik in the event something happens to me. I consider him a father to my son. He's the reason I'm still breathing."

"So are you saying that if he hadn't come back, that you might have done something drastic?"

"No, I wouldn't have cut my wrists or hung myself, Doc. I lost a ball not my mind."

"Brian," she admonished. "So you consider yourself his partner? And what does that role entail in your opinion?"

"We talk to each other. We fuck each other."

"Love each other?"

"Yeah, I guess. Love to me doesn't mean what it does to others. You know that."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know."

"Brian."

"Miranda, I don't know. He came back to me after the fucking fiddler. He waited a week to ride out my insane tantrum before coming back. But I don't feel like I'm the cheese standing alone anymore. He's got my back. So my feelings for Justin are complicated. He stood up to Claire."

"Really?" That interested her.

Smiling, Brian said, "He called her a cunt. He reminded her that her asshole son accused me of molesting him and she believed him over me. Just because I like cock."

"Are you glad that he's back in your life? That he's in your corner? That he loves you."

Brian ground out the cigarette. "Yes, to all of the above. But I don't feel like I can always count on Justin's love."

"Why? Is it because of the age difference?"

"Yeah, on some levels. Miranda, I cut back on tricks even before I got the diagnosis. Before the surgery, Justin brought home two hot guys for us to fuck. It occurred to me that sometimes he doesn't get me."

"And?"

"I like foursomes, Miranda. But that wasn't what I needed. I needed him not some anonymous trick who was simply interested in my dick."

"What did you end up doing?"

Brian sighed. "I left the loft and went to Kinnetik. I just couldn't be there."

"Why couldn't you talk to him?"

"Because I was afraid I might tell him."

"Tell him what, Brian?"

"Tell him how scared I was. Tell him that when Dr. Shane told me I had a lump in my ball, I felt the world go spinning out of control."

"When you went to have the surgery in Baltimore how did you feel?"

"Alone." Brian remembered lying on the operating table counting backwards from ten. "When I woke up in that hospital room, I wanted Justin."

"So it was Justin you wanted? Not Michael. Or Lindsay. Or even me?"

"Yes," he said in a near whisper. "It was Justin's face I wanted to see. I wanted him. I missed him." He remembered walking back into the diner and being hurt that Justin hadn't been more excited to see him.

"So why didn't you trust him enough to tell him the truth? Why'd you lie about going to Ibiza?"

"Because I didn't want him to stay with me out of some misguided sense of guilt. I lied about Ibiza because we made a stupid bet which I won on tenuous grounds at best. If he won, we'd go to Ibiza. If I won, he'd go back to school."

"Is his going back to school important to you?"

"Yeah, I want to see Justin with a degree. I want to see him successful in his field. I want to see him with a future."

"Do you feel guilty about him getting suspended?"

"No," Brian said. "It was his idea to do the agit-prop posters against Stockwell. I participated because that homophobic asshole was closing down the backrooms and the sex clubs and the baths. Our whole fucking life was being taken away from us. I was pissed."

"Okay, back to the topic at hand. What happened to cause him to come back?"

"I don't know," Brian said. "I kicked him out of Kinnetik, told him that if he came back I'd get a restraining order."

"Would you have gotten the restraining order against him?"

"Probably not. I was pretty fucked up on pain meds. And I was trying to excise him out of my life as seamlessly as possible."

"So what do you think happened?"

"Well, Mikey came by and reminded me that he was my partner and my lover. And that it was a shitty thing I was doing to him."

Go, Mikey, she thought, for once applauding the other man's actions. "And then what happened?"

"I kicked him out. Reminded him of his husband and kid. And then I curled up in a ball and went to sleep."

"Did you think about what Michael said?"

"I thought it was pretty hypocritical considering how he vilifies Justin every chance he gets. He's jealous of the connection Justin and I have. Doesn't understand that it's not just sexual. Justin gets me on levels Michael doesn't."

Sounds like you love him, Miranda thought. "So what happened next?"

"The next day I came home early from work because I was feeling like shit. I was planning on going to sleep and I opened the loft door and found Justin at the stove making me chicken soup."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Pissed. But, at the same time, relieved. I told him to get the fuck out, that I didn't want him there. I went to throw him out but Justin fought me back. I ended up on the floor with him worried that he'd hurt me."

"Had he hurt you?"

"Not physically, no. But I was raw emotionally. He was pissed at me because I hadn't told him myself. He was angry that I thought I could handle it by myself."

"Could you handle it by yourself?"

"No," he admitted. "It was hard for me on those days when he wasn't there to drag myself to the bathroom. The scar was still really tender and I'd drag myself to the bathroom, in excruciating pain. It hurt to piss."

"What did he say?"

"He called me a motherfucking son of a bitch. And told me to eat some fucking soup."

"Did you eat the soup?"

Brian nodded. "Yeah, I ate the soup."

"You don't like it when he gets pissed at you."

"No, I don't. But then sometimes it turns me on."

"Did you let him stay?" Miranda asked, sensing that he was growing tired.

"Yeah," Brian said. "I didn't want to be alone."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Not in as many words."

"Were you relieved that someone was there to take care of you? That you didn't have to cope on your own?"

"Yeah, I was glad he was there. That's not to say that everything was easy between us because I'm a mean son of a bitch on a good day. But when I'm in pain, I'm an absolute asshole."

"Here I thought Justin loves your asshole," she joked.

Brian met her eyes. "He does. But he loves all of me. Warts and all. He doesn't love the person he wants me to be but the person I am."

"Does that make a difference?"

"Yeah, Michael sees me as some superhero he once idealized. Lindsay sees me as Gus's father and she once wanted the stereotypical American dream with me, the whole nine yards. But Justin sees past all that to me. He got angry with me when everyone else would have said, oh poor Brian. Instead he called me names and yelled at me. He didn't let me push him off the cliff again. He stood and fought for me."

"That matters to you."

"Hell, yes, it matters. It matters that he's the only person in my life who has ever fought for me. Thought I mattered."

"What about me? And Michael? And Lindsay?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because Justin fell in love with me before he really knew me. You and Michael and Lindsay all love me but it's different. With Justin I have the whole package."

"The whole package being?"she prodded.

"Sex, communication, at least at times. We're friends. He knows that I like to watch old westerns and that I am a huge Brando fan. He smokes pot with me even though he knows I tend to get silly. He knows when I need to talk and when not to press. He'll get up in the middle of the night and find me in the living room and just sit there with me. He'll cover me up with a blanket. He'll spend hours making out with me until our lips are bruised and tender. Justin's there for me when I need him."

"Do you miss being with him?"

"You mean, do I miss fucking him?"

Miranda nodded. "Yeah. It bothers me that I'm unable to express my feelings to him. It amazes me that he's willing to be patient."

"How did it feel when you were naked before him?"

"Like I was standing on the gangplank faced with a dozen angry Pirates armed with swords about to run me through."

"How did he react?"

Brian looked at her. "He kissed and licked the scar. Told me it didn't matter to him."

"Do you think he was lying?"

"No, I think that he loves me. He didn't go running for the door. He stayed there and made sure I was ready. He didn't want to force me into doing anything I didn't want to do."

"And when you're ready? Are you going to hit the backroom with some anonymous trick?"

Brian slowly shook his head. "No, when I'm able to get it up, there's only one person I'd call."

"That person is?" she gently prodded him.

"Justin," he ground out. "I want to fuck him. I don't want to experience the first time I can get it up again with a total stranger."

"Is it because you fear being rejected? Think of yourself as not whole?"

"On some level, yeah."

"Do you think he feels any residual guilt?"

"For what?"

"Do you think it's possible he feels guilty that he wasn't the one who discovered the lump in your testicle, Brian? That maybe that's why he didn't come to you when he found out."

Brian stared at her. "I'd have handled things differently if Justin had been going down on me and found the lump. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish it had been him instead of a trick. So yeah it's possible he feels guilty. If it had been Justin that found the lump in my ball, I'd have taken him with me to the doctor. And to Baltimore. It would have been different if Justin had been sucking my dick and found the imperfection in my ball."

Miranda set her notepad down and looked at him. "Brian, do you resent the fact that it wasn't Justin that found the lump?"

It was a thought he didn't like. His answer was long in coming. "Yeah, I guess so. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have this fucking disease. In a perfect world it would be my partner who found the lump. Justin spends a lot of time on his knees worshipping my dick and balls, Miranda. If anyone should have found the lump it should've been him."

"Sounds like you're angry."

"I'm not angry at him. This is something beyond our control."

"You keep referring to him as your partner. Is that how you view him?"

"Yeah," Brian said. "I consider him my partner. We're never gonna walk down an aisle but, in all the ways that matter, Justin's my partner. My lover. And I'm not going to wax philosophic about this or turn into a fucking dyke."

She had to smile. "I think it's time that I spoke to him."

Brian nodded. He stood and looked at her. "Be gentle."

"I understand. But somehow I think you're the Ming vase and he's the Tupperware."

"Interesting analogy, Doc," Brian said. But he got her point. Looking back at her before he opened the door he said, "Miranda, thanks."

"Any time, Kinney. Any time." She smiled at him. Somehow she thought he'd be okay though there were still issues he had to go through. She looked at her notes as Justin walked through her door, looking like a puppy expecting to be kicked. She suppressed a smile. Well, she thought, session with Taylor, # 1.

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